It was on her way back to the porch that she overheard MaryAnn and Bonnie in a room off the main hall. “Bonnie, what is your problem? You are embarrassing yourself with your persistence about Claire and Tony.”
“I am an inquisitive person. I want to find out what the rest of the world wants to know. Why is he, Anthony Rawlings, interested in her? She’s a nobody.”
“Frankly, Bonnie, it is none of your damn business. It is none of any of our business. Tony is a private man. And as far as a nobody, I guess that depends on who you ask. Tony must think she is somebody. If he wants Claire in his life, good for him.”
“Hell no! Good for her,” Bonnie exclaimed. “The guy is drop-dead gorgeous and has money to burn. He hardly takes his eyes off her. Do you think she paid for those clothes she is wearing? The blouse alone is over $500. She’s getting herself a sugar daddy. Look how young and skinny she is, why she—”
“Stop it. Stop it now or we will tell Courtney we need to leave. I will tell Eli what you have done and you and Chance will leave. Perhaps you can get started on Chance’s job search.” MaryAnn’s control of the situation made Claire smile. Bonnie told MaryAnn she would stop. Claire let them proceed to the porch and waited a few minutes before joining the group. Once there, she smiled at MaryAnn but didn’t glance toward Bonnie.
The men and women came together outside for some conversation, dessert, and drinks. Claire passed on the dessert and sat with Tony’s arm around her shoulders. Brent had a fire pit built into his patio. The cool autumn evening, crackling fire, warmth, and distinct aroma created a pleasurable atmosphere. At about six thirty Tony whispered to Claire that they should leave. Everyone seemed genuinely saddened, Claire included. It had been a nice day, better than anticipated.
As they said goodbyes, Sue handed Claire a piece of paper. Surprised, Claire opened it. It was a telephone number. “Call me, we can do lunch.” Claire smiled and said she would try.
They went to the car and drove away. Perhaps they drove a mile, maybe two when Tony stopped the car on the side of the road and put out his hand. He didn’t speak but she knew what he wanted. She placed Sue’s telephone number in his palm. “Tony—” With the same hand that held the little white piece of paper he roughly covered her mouth.
“Not now. We will discuss it when we get home.” He let go of her face and resumed driving.
No words were uttered during their drive home. Claire’s internal monologue, however, roared: this is ridiculous. Sue was being friendly. I had no idea that Sue would do such a thing. What is the big deal? Why does he have to react so fast and so violently like a freak’n tornado!
Tony pulled the car to the front door. He didn’t open Claire’s door. Instead, he told her to go to her suite, he would be up later. He had things to do, like cancel a spa appointment. His tone was curt and his eyes dark. She wanted to run. Instead she got out of the car and walked boldly into the house, through the large doors, up the grand staircase, and down the southeast corridor to her suite. Once she closed her door, she felt her heart race and her internal monologue continue: this was such a nice day. I met Tony’s friends and they were nice. I wanted to tell him about what I heard. I wanted to tell him what a great time I had.
Claire knew what Anthony was doing. Starting in the car, he had been contemplating, overthinking, and overanalyzing the entire situation. She knew if he would just let her she could explain. Oh god! She wanted to lie down, scream, and cry. But she also knew he could be watching right now and she refused to give him the satisfaction, refused to let him know how worried she was about his decisions. Truthfully, she was worried actually, terrified of the possible return of his other persona.
There are two things a person should never be angry at,
what they can help, and what they cannot.
—Plato
Chapter 16
She sat at her table, writing. Tony couldn’t see what she was writing. The cameras didn’t have enough zooming capability. Her body language didn’t look nervous. It showed a proud and defiant pose. He watched as she wrote, sitting straight, her neck tall and proud. The only hint of uneasiness would be the way her feet fidgeted under her chair.
From his office screens, he could access different views of the room. From another view, she sat farther away, and he could see her bed in the background. Of course, there was the view that kept the bed centered, but the table wasn’t visible from that one.